


Take Care

by DentistsScareMe



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Dubcon Cuddling, Fluff, Gen, Non-Consensual Cuddling, Sick Patton, Soup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-27 14:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15687345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DentistsScareMe/pseuds/DentistsScareMe
Summary: Patton is the teams father. He makes certain that everyone is okay, and that they can help Thomas to the best of their abilities. But sometimes you can't always take care of someone. Someone has to take care of you.





	Take Care

**Author's Note:**

> heh. 
> 
> fluuuuuuuuuff
> 
> because Patton bby needs cuddles sometimes.
> 
> also can be seen as pairing if u so chose.
> 
> also I have no beta so rip.

So maybe staying up until one in the morning watching conspiracy theories wasn't the best idea, but Virgil _needed_ to know what could be behind 9/11. Didn't everyone?

So Anxiety woke up in a bad mood. It wasn't that surprising, considering he was generally in a bad mood, but today was different. Today, Virgil had that weighty feeling that came with sleeping too long. Generally that wasn't long, but today obviously Virgil slept in. Which was weird, considering Patton always came down the hall talking about the potential for each day, and making sure that were up to eat food.

Virgil had no idea why Patton insisted on waking the Sides up at before dawno'clock but it was a habit that the Moral Side had picked up. Inadvertently, the Sides had gotten used for the schedule. So, for the first time since they began adulthood ( _adultery),_ Virgil woke up at dawn (which was still too early, mind you). 

Anxiety rolled over, glancing at his alarm. 7:09. 

He groaned, throwing his legs over the side of his gray comforter. His elbow landed on the light purple pillow as he stretched, working out muscles. Virgil's shoulder rolled.

His bare feet curled on his carpet as he pushed himself upwards, slightly reminding himself to start wearing socks. Roman had started to change the season in the mindscape to winter. The Prince loved snow. Or Virgil could just change the temperature in his room warmer, but that would require effort that the Side didn't want to use.

He made his way towards the closet. _Funny thing,_ he thought, _I used to be in there_. Anxiety winced at the Patton-like pun. _Speaking of Patton; where was the Dad Side?_

Virgil threw on a hoodie and jeans, foregoing shoes for today. He cracked open the door and peered into the hallway. No one.

He let the door swing on it's hinges, and stepped out into the open, a bad feeling in his stomach.

_What if Patton's hurt? What if he got stuck and needs help? What if-_

Virgil shook away the thoughts. It wouldn't do any good to freak out now. First things first, he walked down the hallway to Patton's room, ignoring the pounding in his chest.

His hand shook as he turned the knob, and he felt his heart leap into his throat as it creaked open to reveal dark. Patton almost always left the light on in his room.

This whole morning was weird. Patton didn't wake everyone up, and his room was dark. Virgil's stomach twisted, and his feet felt heavy. But he had to persevere. If not for curiosity, then for Patton.

Virgil padded in. 

His hand reached out for the light switch, and he hit the wall several times before flipping it on, light flooding into his pupils suddenly. He squinted, allowing his eyes to become used to the brightness. A small shape laid on Patton's bed, covered in light blue blankets and in a small ball.

Virgil moved towards the shape, realizing with shock that it was Patton in a curled up position. The Moral Side was shivering.

"Patton?" Virgil asked quietly. 

Patton's head shot up, eyes wide with shock before landing and focusing on Virgil. "Oh, hey kiddo."

Virgil winced at the nasally voice. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Patton seemed insistent - _afraid_?- and he was quick to answer. "Why would you think something's wrong?"

"You look sick."

"I'm fine."

Virgil sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hand through Patton's hair. His hand was shiny and wet with sweat. "Patton, tell me what's up."

"My head hurts and I'm cold." 

Virgil looked down, surprised at the small and quiet voice that came out of his almost-dad's voice.

_Sounds like the flu._

He pushed the thought away. _The other Side's should be here._ Virgil couldn't do this alone.

Virgil nodded decisively. "Alright Pat. Let me go for get the others. I'll be back with some soup." 

Patton nodded, although it was as if he had a choice in the matter. Based on how he looked, he probably couldn't move from his position.

Virgil moved from the bed before he could change his mind, and decided to go to Roman's room first. He cracked the door open, having to abruptly stop it before it hit the Prince.

Roman looked at him with bleary eyes. "You're not Patton."

 

Virgil shot him a look. "Twenty on a perception check, Sherlock."

"Where's Patton?" Roman ignored the confusing statement Virgil made.

"Sick."

"Patton cannot be sick!" Roman puffed out his chest. "I must go cuddle him to betterment!"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "Maybe we should get Logan up before we do anything?"

"Lead the way, Twenty One Panic Attacks." 

Virgil groaned and lead Roman to Logan's room, wondering if Logic was up yet. Probably, seeing as he had whole heartedly agreed with the schedule Patton had came up with.

* * *

Virgil opened the door to Logan in sweatpants. In _just_ sweatpants. He narrowed his eyes, not wearing glasses.

"Geez. Could you like put on a shirt?" Virgil grumbled. 

"I'm sorry, I was unaware that I was in the wrong. Forgive me for not being better dressed in my private room. Next time you decide to barge in I'll be dressed in full gear." Logan shot back, already pulling on a shirt.

Virgil narrowed his eyes. "How about-"

Roman pushed himself in between the two. "Alright, enough you two." He turned to Logan. "Patton's sick."

Logan paused in the middle of cleaning his glasses. "Sick? What's wrong?"

"He's sweaty but he complains of being cold."

Logan swiftly nodded. "That's not enough conclusive data. I'll need more findings before I can make a fair judgement."

 "Well you guys go ahead." Virgil said to the other two. "I promised Dad some soup."

* * *

Three Sides stood over the fourth's bed, watching as he reluctantly ate soup. Virgil had fought, pleaded and argued until Patton finally took a bite of the soup.

Roman  smiled. "So which musical should I reenact for you today, Patton?"

Virgil looked at the Prince, wide-eyed. "Please don't-"

"Please do!" Patton interrupted, grinning and clapping his hands.

Virgil sighed at Patton. But after all, who was he to argue with such a cute Dad?

"Which one?" Roman repeated, still grinning. 

"Les Misèrables- no Hamilton- no The Phantom of The Opera- no-"

"How about I do all of them?" Roman suggested.

"I doubt you could do that." Logan muttered.

Patton shushed him. Virgil promptly sat the soup bowl aside, not prepared for the sudden pull of his shirt he got when he sat it down. Patton quickly pulled him into his cardigan, swinging an arm over Virgil's shoulder. A quick glance proved that Logan was in the same position.

As the beginning song Virgil started to relax.

" _Look down, look down, don't look him in the eye_."

* * *

 

Patton grinned to himself as he walked down the hall, two plates balanced on his arm and the other precariously on his outstretched hand.

He twisted the doorknob to Virgil's room, grinning as he saw the emo curled under blankets and sneezing. 

Sometimes Dads needed a hand. 

But sometimes Dads needed to lend one. 

**Author's Note:**

> also subscribe to SparrowCannotFly because she's amaze balls and also it might get her to start posting amazing stories.


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